Big Picture: The risks kids take for art

The Times Union recently held a contest called “In Your Own Shoes,” which asked kids from elementary school through high school to create “art shoes.” That is, shoes they wouldn’t wear, but that somehow reflected something about themselves.

The contest was inspired by an exhibition now at the Albany Institute of History & Art called “The Perfect Fit: Shoes Tell Stories.” (The exhibition is up through Jan. 2; this weekend, admission to the institute is free, so go check it out.)
I worked with the people at the Albany Institute to pull this contest together, and they provided prizes for the winners, space to display some of the entries (they are there now, but only through Dec. 3) and arranged two judges to examine the work.

They all came to the Times Union, and I showed them the newsroom before the photographer took over. Each one of them smiled with a kind of joy that reflected a sense of innocence and wonder.

I enjoyed meeting them and speaking with them, and in our talks I realized I said things that I wished I could say to all the other children who entered and who didn’t win.

So this is what I would tell them:

Even though I know this sounds cliche, you should feel proud just for entering.

I know you aren’t professional artists and you’re still developing your interests, so you have many more journeys ahead of you.

As the person who thought up this contest, I’m just grateful you responded.

The way I see it, each one of you took at least two major risks.

First, you took something from your imagination and attempted to realize it as a drawing or sculpture that reflected something about your own life. As someone who works with words for a living — and who has thought, rethought, written and rewritten numerous sentences in this piece — I know a huge chasm exists between idea and action. Taking a leap over that chasm, especially when it involves your own identity, is a huge risk.

And that risk comes with a host of supplemental risks that include opportunity costs and possible social death; that is, if you spend time thinking about and making art, that means you aren’t doing typical kid things such as studying, hanging out with friends, watching TV or playing video games. It also means you aren’t plugged into the total flow of imaginative works provided by various media, things that other kids might talk about at school. And if you don’t know what they’re talking about, you may lose a sense of prestige. It is what some call “social death.”

The second major risk you took is that you were willing to have your work judged. Your work was among dozens of entries, but I can easily imagine dozens more that were imagined and created for this contest, but not sent in. To submit is another beast entirely. The word itself has a connotation of deference, of lowering oneself for the consideration of some higher authority. It takes guts to submit work, especially when it has personal elements.

Sometimes I teach college writing courses, and I often must encourage students to gain some distance from their work. A paper, no matter how poorly or wonderfully written, isn’t their heart or soul or life. It is an object. Of course, it has references back to them, but it is still an object separate from their being, an object that can be examined and manipulated and, yes, judged like any other object.

Most students understand what I mean, but it rarely diminishes the emotional reaction to the evaluation of one’s work: Criticism still stings, and praise still boosts egos.

For you who made work for this contest and who made work and submitted it, I want you to realize the risks you took are appreciated. And though the judges could award only five winners, I do hope you found some joy in the process, in taking imaginative leaps over chasms and putting a piece of your work — a piece of yourself — out there for the larger world to see.